


Swear to God, Double Knot

by inotherwords (denialtwister)



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denialtwister/pseuds/inotherwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little while after saving Freddie from getting himself fucking killed, Cook takes him out to Brighton for the day. [Post-series 4 AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swear to God, Double Knot

  


 

"Get over here already, ye' lazy wanker," Cook shouted to Freddie from the boot of his beat-up car. "Help me get these fookin' chairs out to the sand." After weeks of being a self-inflicted hermit, Cook decided that his best mate needed to leave his fucking house already. Just a month earlier, the boy had saved him from rotting away in John Foster's basement; for once, one of Cook’s violent rampages proved to be a _good_ thing. He killed the psycho shrink in self-defense, avoided charges for the murder, but most of all, he saved Freddie’s life.

 

“Coming…” Freddie mumbled, his body sore from being out of bed for the first time in who knows how long. The weight of his situation wasn’t lost on him; he really did let himself come close to death, and this fact launched him into near-depression. More than anything, he just felt _pathetic_ for himself, despite surviving the encounter.

 

A lot had changed in his life since then, too; most notably, he broke things off with Effy. Though she was a little hurt by his decision, she understood the state he was in, and just wanted the boy to get better. If he needed to break things off with her for his own sake, she wouldn’t hold him back. She had issues of her own to deal with, anyway.

 

Feebly letting himself out of the vehicle, he joined Cook at the boot, taking out one of the brightly colored chairs his friend had brought along. “There, happy?” he asked in annoyance.

 

“Very much so, mate,” Cook responded. “Look at you, holding a fookin’ beach chair, on a nice, sunny day in Brighton. Never thought I’d get to see this…” he added, giving Freddie a playful smack on the cheek.

 

“Shut up, you prick,” Freddie muttered, rolling eyes at his best friend. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I hate Brighton,” he stated in disgust, starting to recall all the times his dad dragged him and his sister there. Karen always loved Brighton, for the record, but Freddie never did. He _hated_ beaches.

 

“Hey!” Cook scolded, with feigned conviction. “I may be a prick,” he began, “but I’m a _prick_ who saved _your_ goddamned life. Did I not?!” If there was one thing he could possibly lord over his slacker friend for the rest of their lives, it was that.

 

“You _did…_ ” Freddie conceded. “Whatever. Where are we going with these things exactly?” he asked, leaning the beach chair on his leg. “There are _way_ too many fucking people here…”

 

Cook laughed at the pessimism he grew to know and love from his friend. “I think I saw a spot over there,” he said, pointing to a seemingly unsettled patch of sand to their right. “We better get there before a gaggle of birds steal it from us. You know how much girls love to get their tan on in the summer, yeah?”

 

The two walked over the spot, which thankfully was unoccupied when they got there. Before long, they found themselves sitting in the chairs, not sharing words; just the view of the ocean that lay before them.

 

“Nice day, innit?” Cook asked lazily, a vague scent of salt water wafting over to him. “Barely any waves, not too hot… it’s good. You need some good in your life, Freds.”

 

“Yeah,” Freddie agreed, simply. “Reckon it’s better than staying in bed all day,” he quipped, surprise by his sudden upswing in mood. “Plus, I don't have Karen yelling at me to come watch _Britian’s Got Talent_ with her…”

 

Both boys laughed at the comment, the first moment of mutual levity between them in quite a while. There was a brief pause following it, but then Freddie spoke yet again. “I still can’t thank you enough, Cook. For, you know, saving my _fucking_ life. I haven’t really gotten to tell you that, yet.”

 

“Don’t mention it, mate,” Cook assured, reaching over to Freddie, taking the other boy’s hand in his. “It’s not the first time either of us has saved the other’s ass, eh?” he giggled. “All that matters is that we’re here, together. Really fookin’ love you, man. I mean it.”

 

And in that moment, Freddie let a surge of peacefulness rush over him. This was going to be a good day, and God knows he was long overdue one.


End file.
